Too Clever By Half
by oddtom
Summary: This is the untold story of Foxface, my favorite Hunger Games character. I really felt she should have gotten more development and background. Have you ever wondered what happened to the other tributes during the thunderstorm that raged while Katniss and Peeta holed up in the cave? What killed Thresh? This is the untold story of those lost days.
1. Beginning of the End

The neat arrangement of pine needles and deciduous leaves were strewn violently into the air as frantic feet pattered through them. The girl had been flat out running for a good five minutes before she even considered slowing down. When she felt sure that nobody was following her, she slowed to a stop and pricked up her ears, listening for unseen enemies stalking in the shadows.

Finch was not terrified, nor even truly scared, as the casual observer might have believed. Though her demeanor may have contained outward symptoms of fear, she couldn't have been calmer or more collected. Long ago, she had rationalized that fear was a pointless emotion. The best way to stay alive was to stop, analyze the situation, and act accordingly.

Breathing in and out slowly, trying to catch her breath as quietly as possible, she listened closely. She was relieved to find that all she could hear was the soft wind making its way lazily through the tree branches. Her plan had worked perfectly.

She wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead and smoothed out her long red hair that had become tangled during her mad dash to safety.

When Claudius Templeton had announced that there would be a feast at the cornucopia, she had employed a clever, but risky strategy, but it had worked. She had gotten away unscathed.

Suddenly, a loud noise echoed sharply through the forest. The girl was startled, immediately crouching on her toes, alert and ready to act. As her brain processed the low thunderous roar, she relaxed a little. The cannon shot meant only that a fellow tribute had been killed.

_That's fine,_ she thought to herself. _One less to worry about._

The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and she started to feel the weakness in her leg muscles brought on by exertion and lack of sustenance. She hadn't eaten a proper meal since the beginning of the games and she could feel her rib cage starting to stand out under her uniform.

As she walked back to her hidden cave, where she had spent a majority of her time in the arena, she wondered who the cannon shot might have been for.

Going over the past few days in her head, she brought up the six tributes left. There was her, the two from District 2, the lovers from District 12, and Thresh from District 11.

She doubted that it was either of the tributes from District 2. Though Claudius had recently declared a new rule that allowed two victors from the same district, she knew that it was all a ruse. The capitol liked to make the final battle a good show, and since the two were not only both skilled with weapons, but from the same district, a final battle between the two was bound to be riddled with tension. Smiling, she thought, _at least that's what I would do if I was a gamemaker._

It could have been Thresh. He was the only one besides her who didn't have a district partner still alive. Since the beginning, he had shown defiance toward the capitol. That was always a bad move. In the years that she had been forced to watch the games, the tributes who became victors were never the ones who showed defiance toward the capitol's rules. Shaking her head, she recalled his interview and how he had all but refused to answer Caesar's questions in contempt. It was clear that he objected to the games, but his pride would be his downfall. She was positive that the capitol would make sure that he was dead before the end.

As she reached the stream that led up to her cave, Finch figured it could also easily have been one of the lovers from 12. She was surprised that either of them had made it this far, considering all the attention that they had brought to themselves.

Finch didn't know about the girl, but she had been watching the boy during his time with the District 1 and 2 pack. She had been surprised that the same fate had not befallen him that had the other District 5 tribute.

Sloshing up the embankment, she thought about Jason, her district partner, and Celia, their mentor. Finch didn't envy the job that Celia had, trying to coach teenagers who are about to walk off to their deaths, but she had done all that she could.

Celia had been convinced that Jason could make it into the District 1 and 2 pack. Jason had truly tried to impress the tributes from District 1 and 2 during training, and though they eventually seemed to accept him, they had turned on him as soon as the initial gong went off. He was dead before the first hour of the games had passed.

The boy from District 12 had been spared, however, no doubt because of his connection to the supposedly formidable girl on fire.

11. Finch went over the score again in her mind. The girl from District 12 had scored an 11 in training. How?

Finch had no idea why the girl on fire had scored an almost perfect score and, because of it, was cautious of going anywhere near her. What had she said during the interview about her closed session? Something about it likely being the first time that whatever she did had happened in Hunger Games history? More importantly, the gamemakers had nodded in approval, which meant that she must have some unique and no doubt deadly skill. Finch knew that there was something to be feared about the girl from District 12, and, though she was curious, had waited to see if she would reveal her secret.

Old and predicable dangers were one thing, but she knew well enough to be overly cautious about unknown dangers. Finch was sure that it was the girl from District 12 who had taken out the giant pile of supplies, but she didn't know how the girl had done it.

It was a task that Finch herself would have done, except that she had not yet found what she had been looking for in it. She couldn't be certain that the object had been included in the games at all, but she wanted to be sure. She had certainly not expected anyone else to destroy the pile, but was delightedly surprised when she had returned to the clearing and had found that the mines had detonated, vaporizing everything the tributes from District 1 and 2 were counting on to survive. Her only regret was that she had not stocked up enough on food and now her only food source was gone.

As she stepped into the stream that led out of her cave, her stomach growled as if to emphasize the point. She had been clawed at by hunger since the beginning, but it had gotten worse since the pile had blown. Her stores of food had already been low at that point, but she was sure that she could take some from other tributes. However, she had not had luck running across another tribute or food and was becoming more aware of her weakness due to hunger.

At that thought, she glanced down nervously at the green backpack she was holding. What if they had simply sent her food? Though she was desperately hungry, there was something she needed more than food. Maybe a meal would hold her for a couple of days, but what good would that do her in the long run? Did her mentor know what she needed? What her plan was? If not- if it wasn't in here, her entire plan would be foiled.

_No_, she thought to herself, shaking her head. _It must be here. It has to be_.

Finch stepped out of the small stream and into the cave, making sure to erase all trace of tracks behind her. She had chosen this cave out of the number of hiding holes she had found for several reasons. The proximity to the cornucopia meant that she wouldn't have to travel far to steal goods and bring them back. Additionally, the cave had a steady stream of water running through it so she could stay holed up for days on end without coming out for water. On top of that, there was a small tunnel to the surface near the back of the cave that was just large enough for her to squeeze through in the event that her cave was ever ambushed. It was the perfect defensive bunker.

Carefully stepping over the traps she had set at the entrance to the cave, she walked past her small cache of stolen goods, reminded again of how little food she had.

There, she sat down with her newly acquired bounty.

She remembered just a few days ago, when Claudius had announced the feast. He had said that they each had something that they desperately needed. Finch knew at once what she desperately needed, but had feared that the capitol would not allow it or that she would get sent something else. Silly fears, perhaps, but fears nonetheless.

Now, sitting in her cozy nest in her familiar cave, Finch set the green backpack down in front of her. She had been planning her next move for the last few days, and had thought it was all in vain after the pile had been destroyed.

Her entire strategy all depended on the contents of this little green bag.

She sat in the dark for a while, listening to the sound of salty drops falling from the stalactites and hitting the puddles below. She knew she would have to open the bag eventually, but was afraid of what she might find.

Or not find.

Taking a deep breath, she unzipped the medium sized green backpack and peered inside.

Yes! It was there! Finch exhaled a sigh of relief. She might have a chance of getting out of this thing alive after all.


	2. Assessing the Situation

Finch zipped the pack back up and set it to the side. Then she grabbed a tin of dried fruit from the ever diminishing stash of goods she had left.

All was going according to plan. Well, more or less. Now all she had do was stay alive long enough to act on it. As she nibbled on the rind of a dried orange, she sat back and thought about her next move.

Her strategy from the beginning had been to stay as below the radar as possible, and so far, she had succeeded fairly well. If the crowd didn't take notice of you, she rationalized, then the gamemakers would have no reason to try to kill you. She knew that it meant sacrificing sponsors, but as she explained to Celia, when you can steal food, there is no need for a sponsor to provide it. She didn't want to depend on anyone else anyway.

Now, slowly starving in the damp cave, she was beginning to wonder if that had been a mistake.

Celia had had her doubts, but had let Finch have her way, deciding that she would probably die no matter what. From that point, Finch had been more or less on her own, but she liked it better that way.

To her, the people of the capitol were simple minded. They would only care most about what happened to their favorite tributes, so those were the ones that the gamemakers would focus on. As long as she laid low and didn't bring attention to herself, the other tributes would take care of each other.

At least that was true when there actually were other tributes on the field.

For the beginning of the games, it was an excellent strategy, but now it would be a dangerous one. Finch was well aware that with the number of tributes low, the gamemakers would do their best to narrow it down to only those that they thought deserved the victory. They would try to eliminate those that nobody cared about.

They would try to eliminate her.

If Thresh hadn't been killed, he could also be a target, but she was not ready to risk her life on that bet.

No, she had to assume that the gamemakers were coming after her next.

She used the stream that ran through her cave to fill a water bottle she had taken from the cornucopia almost two weeks prior, then sat back down.

The gamemakers had a million ways of killing tributes and there was no way to prepare for everything. Finch knew that if the gamemakers truly wanted her dead, they could easily cause her cave to collapse and that would be the end. But they wouldn't likely do that. She chuckled to herself, and thought _Where's the sport in that?_

Every year, the hunger games were slightly different, but there were always things that could be counted on. Constants in a sea of variables.

Finch recalled her time in the training center after Celia had decided to focus solely on Jason. She had gone over and over the videos of previous hunger games and had come to several conclusions. While the games had plenty of unpredictable factors, there were also plenty of things that could be counted on. Among others, there was always a cornucopia, there was always a pack made up mostly of District 1, 2, and 4 tributes, and they would always guard the supplies while weeding out the other tributes. When the field started to get thin, the gamemakers would always corral the remaining tributes together. It was all part of the formula. It was how the games worked.

From this, she surmised that the gamemakers' next move would be to try to lure her into encountering another tribute somehow. She had only barely escaped a great wall of fire a few days prior that she was sure was meant to do the very same thing. She supposed it was meant to look like a forest fire, but she had seen her share of natural fires in District 5 and knew that it was no natural blaze.

Finch had gotten away easily enough, but knew that if the wall had been actively pursuing her, she might have been in trouble. As it were, she was apparently not the intended victim, for as she was running, the wall had suddenly veered onto another path. The gamemakers must have been pursuing someone else.

Mulling this over, she decided that her best chance would be to track the other tributes herself. If she was going to be the next target for their little game, she wanted it to be on her terms, not theirs.


	3. The Decision

Death is only one casual mistake away. Always there, dancing around you, just waiting for you to slip up. One simple mistake is all it takes. One wrong step, one sip of contaminated water, a moment of forgetfulness. Just one, and death is upon you.

It was one of the only good pieces of advice that Celia had given her.

Finch's body was weak and she was keenly aware of her dwindling food supply. She knew that she needed to eat and was becoming more reckless and lazy each passing hour. The nights had started to get colder and she wasn't sure she could survive another one without a fire or nourishment. A fire could reveal her position and, scraping the last few raisins from the now empty tin, she had to face to fact that she simply didn't have any food left. Things were not looking well for her.

The temperature outside had begun to rise steadily throughout the morning and although it was only a few hours past dawn, it was smoldering outside. The humid and muggy air made its way into the cave and the smell of it reminded Finch of home.

She missed home badly. Though she had sometimes gone hungry at home, it was never like this. This level of malnourishment was new to her. At first, it had just been stomach pains, but it had begun to cloud her judgement and make her lazy. Dangerously so.

Finch sat up and shook her head. All she wanted was to lie down and rest, to take a break, but she knew that she couldn't afford to. She splashed cold water on her face and took a deep breath.

"Think, girl. You have to think!" She was muttering aloud to herself, "What do you need to do here." She needed food, that was a priority. Though the capitol would be satisfied for a while with the feast and the death that had occurred today, she knew that it was only a small reprieve before the gamemakers would resume actively trying to kill them.

She had been no good at finding edible herbs on her own in the arena. Before entering the games, she felt that she had a decent knowledge of edible plants, thanks to her work with Agatha, but this overly green world was alien to her. She had learned some useful herbs by shadowing the tiny girl from District 11, but it hadn't quite been enough.

She was used to the grassy plains and occasional scrubby pines of her home district. Here, there were plants everywhere. You could hardly see the ground for all the leaves. Plants of all sorts and types, most of which she had never seen before. Leaves, flowers, and berries everywhere of all shapes and sizes and any one of them could be deadly. Especially in the games.

Her thoughts drifted back to the time she spent in the apothecary. She wished Agatha was there with her; Agatha would know what to do. She had a fleeting feeling of longing before snapping herself back.

_No_, she reminded herself. _You can't think like that. She is not here right now. Focus on what you have and what you can do._

Returning to simple logic, she went over her options. The question was simple: where would she most likely find food? The others must be getting food or they would already be dead. Trying to find edible herbs would be a waste of time. Time that she didn't have. The food provided by gamemakers had long since been destroyed. There was only one reliable option, though she disliked the thought of it.

She would have to seek out one of the other tributes.

With this in mind, she stood up, slung grabbed the green pack across her back, and headed out into the midday heat.


	4. On the Move

The birds chirped in the distance and the blades of grass undulated with the gusts of wind. Otherwise, the area seemed deserted.

Crouching behind a bush on the edge of the open field, Finch could see where a bloody battle must have taken place just a couple of hours before. Nearby was the giant crater, where a pile of life saving supplies had once been.

She had decided to start her search at the cornucopia. With the pile of supplies gone, there was no reason to think that anyone would be there. Now, it was just another area of the arena. She figured that an open field was the least strategic place to hide while being hunted to the death, so you'd have to be crazy to just walk around out in the open.

With that thought in mind, Finch stepped out into the clearing.

This was where she knew the other tributes had been most recently, and was hoping to find a way to track the tributes down. She was not disappointed.

At the cornucopia, she didn't have to look hard to find signs of a struggle. There was a surprising amount of blood pooled on the ground just in front of where the feast table had been as well as a large rock stained bright red. A search of the immediate area rewarded her with one of Clove's throwing knives. It was well crafted and Finch planned to make good use of it.

It was also matted in blood.

Turning over the fine knife in her hand, Finch wondered briefly whose it was. She thought, _If Clove left this, she must have been in a hurry to get away._ Then, after a second, added, _Or dead_.

Upon further searching, Finch found a trail of trampled grass that headed off toward the edge of the field that bent toward the horizon. That must be from Thresh; He had spent most of the games in the fields of tall grass that grew in that area.

The other trail she found was far more distinctive. Fresh blood, and lots of it, trailed off into the dense woods to her left.

After debating between the two trails for a second, she darted off, following the trail of blood.


	5. The Trail

The path continued into the woods, then disappeared at the edge of a stream. It looked like whoever had left the trail had tried to hide their tracks, but had either been overly careless or woozy with blood loss.

Thinking that the trail was perhaps a bit too obvious, Finch decided to retreat to the shelter of the woods and continue parallel to it. She had followed the series of bloodstained river rocks about thirty yards upstream when motion caught her eye. She froze and glanced over to where she had seen movement.

She sighed in relief when she saw that it was just a rabbit.

It was dangling upside down, struggling to free itself, as if caught in a spider's web. Stepping cautiously, Finch carefully approached it to investigate.

It was an excellent snare, made of a coil of wire attached to sturdy, but flexible wood. Even up close, the snare blended right in with the forest around it. The only thing that gave it away was the unnaturally bent pliable wood that triggered the trap. She would have to be more cautious. If there were snares for game, there would likely also be snares for people around.

Finch took Clove's blade out of her pocket and cut the rabbit's throat, letting it bleed out.

She smiled. She was going to have a good supper tonight.

Snares for food meant that she must be close. Finch continued carefully up the stream and, now that she was looking for them, saw four more snares, all unsprung. Each of them was sensitive, but strong. Whoever had set these traps was good at it.

_Just one wrong step, that's all it takes._ Celia's advice flew through Finch's head as she carefully placed each foot, making sure to avoid snares. She was sure that Celia must be watching now. So close to another tribute's hideout, she thought that maybe the whole capitol was watching her. _Or watching tributes waiting to ambush me_.

All she could think about was how embarrassing it would be to have the whole of Panem see you walk blindly into a snare trap. She was better than that.

Finch shook the thought from her mind. She was determined to survive.

It wasn't long after that when she found the cave.

Drops of blood led up the riverbank and into a crevice between some large rocks. It looked like someone had tried to wipe away the blood, but only succeeded in making a mess. Whoever it was had not been thinking clearly at all. With as much blood as she had seen, Finch was surprised that she had not instead stumbled across an unconscious body.

It was becoming more and more clear to her that the bloody trail was less likely a trap that she was meant to follow than the desperate attempt for a tribute to escape intact.

Aware that the cameras must be upon her now, she approached the small entrance to the cave. She took a deep breath and peeked a single eye around and into crevice of the rocks to peer in. It took a moment for her eyesight to adjust to the dim light, but she could make out two vague shapes.

Her heart froze when she realized that the shapes she was looking at were the two tributes from District 12.

Had they seen her? Finch was motionless until she realized that the two people in the cave weren't moving. In fact, both seemed to be badly injured and unconscious.

Finch wedged into the cave to take a closer look.

There was no doubt about it, she had found the star-crossed lovers. She chuckled at the term. Looking down at the two tributes, she saw that she was in no real danger. The girl was lying in a pool of her own blood and it was still slowly oozing from a sizable gash in her forehead. Even if she did regain consciousness, she would not be able to move immediately without becoming dizzy.

The boy was debatably worse. He was trembling on the ground, tossing and turning in a sleeping bag, apparently sick with a fever. He was mumbling gibberish and Finch could see discolored veins coursing through the exposed parts of his leg.

Two easy kills.

A sly smile spread across Finch's face as her hands reached into her pocket and her fingers slowly wrapped around the curved handle of Clove's throwing blade.


	6. A Wise Choice?

As Finch stood over the two defenseless tributes, gripping the knife in her pocket, she paused. Instinct warned her to stop and analyze the situation fully before proceeding.

_Think._ she told herself. _You have to think_. So close to the end of the games, she needed to make sure that she played it correctly.

Finch analyzed the situation in her mind. If the two from District 12 died here, it would just be her and two of Thresh, Clove, and Cato. Finch was sure that the gamemakers would make the fight between her and either of those two a bloody hand-to-hand battle, if she even survived that far.

More importantly, the cave was filled with the pungent aroma of meat and fruity berries. It was a wonderful smell. Looking around the cave, she could see that the tributes from District 12 were in no short supply of food, at least by her standards. In the middle of the cave were piles of greens, berries, and nuts. In addition, there were two roasted birds and a rabbit.

_Enough food for the three of us_, she smiled.

With the gamemakers' supplies gone, Finch believed that these tributes could very well be her only source of food left in the arena. As long as these two were capable of gathering food, she would stand a better chance if they were still alive.

With this thought, she released her grip on the knife. There was a good chance that both of these tributes were on their way out anyway.

One look at the boy told her exactly what the District 12 tributes needed, and she found the tiny pack with a 12 embroidered on it on the ground near the boy.

The pack was empty, but she could tell what had been in it. She didn't see the syringe that must have come in the box, but she could tell that whatever medicine it contained either had not had any effect yet or the girl had not injected him at all before passing out.

Stepping over the unresponsive bodies, she walked to the piles of food and stuffed a portion of each of their gathered goods into the pockets of her green pack. It was not enough to make a noticeable dent in their supply, but it would get her through the next couple of days. From the girl, she also took several matches from the box nearby, but not enough to really bring on suspicion.

For a brief moment, she debated cutting the strings on the girl's bow, but in the end, decided against it.

If they were on guard, it would be harder for her to get food in the future. If they knew that she had visited, they might move to another cave and her food supply would be harder or impossible to access.

No, it was better if they forgot that she even existed.

Finch walked back to the cave's entrance and, just as she was about to exit, she turned around. The sly grin returned to her face as she muttered under her breath to the unconscious District 12 tributes, "Thanks for the food" With a snicker, she added, "I'll be back for more later, ok?"

She jumped when the boy spoke back to her.

"Katniss...Katniss...", he moaned, rolling over in his sleeping bag. Thankfully, he was still lost in feverish nightmares.

With that, Finch turned and slipped out of the cave, grateful to return to the shadows she was so familiar with.


	7. The Dream

Finch walked out of the cave and had to shield her eyes from the glaring sunlight. After her eyes had adjusted, she retreated to the woods, careful to erase any trace that she had been there, and headed back the way that she had come.

When she got back to the rabbit dangling from the snare trap, it was nearly bled dry. Instead of cutting the snare down, she cleaned up the blood and placed a twig in the sprung snare where the rabbit had been, then stepped back to examine the arrangement. If the girl came to check on it later, it would look as if the snare had been tripped by an errant twig blowing in the breeze.

On the way back to her hideout, she made a point to note landmarks so that she could easily return without having to be too close to the stream. A gnarly old tree stump, a set of boulders leaning on each other, a particularly strange looking knot in the fork of an oak tree. As she walked, the thought about what had just happened.

The gamemakers would clearly have expected her to kill those two. Why else would they have let her come here? Did they think that she had defied them? If so, the gamemakers would make her a target that much more quickly, which was something that she was rather trying to avoid.

As she got close to her cave, a clash of thunder rang out across the valley and it began to rain. She ran back the rest of the way, gathering wood to use as kindling as she went. It was difficult for her to find wood that was dry enough to start a fire with, but she eventually found a thick evergreen tree, where the dense upper branches sheltered the dead lower ones from the downpour.

Hoping that the rain would conceal the smoke, Finch built a fire at the edge of her cave using one of the matches she had taken from the girl from District 12. She roasted the stolen meat along with the rabbit she had pulled from the snare.

After cooking and eating the meal, she sat beside the fire to keep warm. Though there was still daylight reaching through the sheets of rain, it was already beginning to get colder. The rain continued to fall throughout the afternoon and into the night.

Finch was chewing on the bone of a rabbit leg in the small nest that she had made out of pine needles when she heard the anthem blare out. She crawled to the edge of the cave and could faintly see the symbol of the capitol displayed through the rainstorm. After the anthem, the face of Clove from District 2 appeared for a brief moment before being replaced again by the symbol of the capitol.

So it was just Cato, Thresh, and the two from District 12 left. Finch retreated back into the cave and sat down by the fire. She had eaten most of the food she had scavenged that day; She wasn't full, but her hunger had subsided for the first time in days. This combined with the soft pattering of the rain and the warmth of the fire allowed her to easily drift off to sleep.

Finch was standing just inside of the ancient oak door of the apothecary. Aside from the dim bulbs hanging from the ceiling, the place had an ancient feel to it. In here, she could almost forget what century she lived in. As if she had stepped back in time to a place where the games did not exist.

Agatha wasn't behind the counter, so she expected that she was out back tending to the myriad of herbs and plants that made up her garden.

Walking down the front aisle, Finch breathed in the fumes from the various concoctions, vaguely aware that this may be the last time that she would ever get the chance to smell them. "No", she shook her head. _You can't think thoughts like that. The chances of my name being called are basically zero_.

This offered her little reassurance, however, and the thought that these might be her last days lingered in Finch's mind.

She distracted herself from the thought by naming the various herbs placed on the shelves. Finch had prided herself in learning them, though she knew that there was little real purpose in it. In a couple of years, she would be given a job in the power plants just like everyone else. It seemed that the capital always needed power and never had enough people working in the plants. As soon as she turned 18, she would join the others in the laborious work that the solar plants had to offer.

Everyone else knew it and had accepted it as their ultimate fate, but Finch still had hope that she could find a way out of this dark, gloomy destiny that nobody seemed to be able to escape. If Agatha could do it, then she could too. Anyway, she still had three years to make a plan.

Finch cleared the end of the aisle and spotted the back door, partially obscured by the hanging vines of plants that she did not recognize. She made a mental note to ask Agatha about them later. The door was propped open and a stream of light was beckoning her out and into the back garden, so she stepped through.

Outside, it was raining. A crack of thunder echoed through the room.

Finch woke from the dream with a start and bolted upright.

Something felt wrong.


	8. Escape!

Sitting there in the dark of the cave, Finch tried to figure out what had caused her to wake so suddenly. She could hear the crackle of lightning and the patter of raindrops on the leaves outside and it sounded like the downpour had gotten worse. The rain had caused the flow of water through her cave to increase and the water level had risen dramatically.

Her fire had long since burned out, but she could see brief flashes of light as lightning battered the arena and could hear the low rumbling of thunder that followed. It took her a second to realize that the low rumbling sound wasn't stopping. She placed a hand on the floor of the cave and could feel the rumble reverberating through the earth itself. It was barely enough to detect, but the ground was definitely shaking, as if giant creatures were tromping around in the forest outside.

Suddenly alert, Finch reached out for her green pack in the dark and was relieved to find that it was still where she had placed it the night before. She slung the pack onto her back and stood up, looking out the front of the cave.

There was a crack of thunder and a flash of light briefly lit up the world outside.

For a second, she was confused. It looked as if her cave were moving through the woods. As the massive trees approached her at an unnerving pace, she realized, no, the _woods_ were coming at _her_. The entire side of the ridge was sliding toward her cave.

By the time she realized the implications, the wall of mud and foliage had nearly reached the cave's mouth.

Without wasting another moment, Finch turned and ran towards the back of the cave, leaving the rest of her supplies behind. Glad that she had the foresight to examine the area beforehand, she headed toward the small opening in the back.

As she reached it, the wall of mud was flooding into the cave, triggering the traps she had set days prior and burying the rest of her supplies.

She shoved the green pack through the hole, then began to wriggle out herself. She was much thinner than she had been at the beginning of the games, and she easily fit through the opening that had been a tight squeeze to her just a week ago.

She was about halfway out of the opening when she felt a tug on the lower half of her body. The pressure caused by the influx of mud into the cave was creating a vortex, and it began sucking her back down into a wet, muddy grave.

Finch desperately clawed at the wet dirt outside the opening for something to hold on to as she was slowly sucked down into the hole. Her fingers scraped ineffectively through the damp soil, the mud slipping through her fingers. Finally, her hands caught an old thin gnarly root. As she held on to the root to stay above the surface, it began ripping up from the ground, but then it held. She wanted to pull herself up, but was afraid that any more pressure on the withering root would cause it to snap.

Eventually, the suction abated as the the cave filled up with mud.

By pulling on the root and pushing up with her free hand, she managed to squirm out of the hole, but was far from in the clear. All around her, the ground was shifting, oozing down the banks. Behind her, the cave had halted the mudslide momentarily, but now the flow was beginning to advance in her direction. She needed to move.

One of her foot slipped on the wet rocks, but she quickly regained her footing, and sprinted down the hill.

She half tumbled, half ran down the embankment as the forest seemed to topple around her. Snaking left and right to avoid the consuming tide, she managed to avoid getting caught up in the slide and eventually, the flow seemed to taper off.

Relieved that she had somehow managed to escape the danger, she looked around to see where she was, her heart still pounding. The occasional bolts of lightning allowed only a limited view, but as she walked away from where the mud slide had destroyed her home, the clouds cleared up slightly and moonlight began to shine through. As Finch got a better look at her surroundings, she stopped dead in her tracks.

She was not alone.

Even as she recognized the dark figure through the pouring rain, Cato was already drawing his sword.


	9. They Wanted a Fight

_One simple mistake is all it takes_. Finch could hear the voice of her mentor in her head as Cato stared her down. _Even if you do everything perfectly up to that point, one misstep and it's all over_.

Dismayed, Finch looked over at Cato. She should have seen this coming. _No_, Finch corrected herself, _I did see this coming._

Cato seemed vaguely confused for a split second, but then a wide, toothy grin spread across his face.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" he smirked. "Must be my lucky day."

As he said this, Cato took a step forward. Finch stumbled backwards, but quickly regained her footing and stared back at the menace in front of her.

The rainfall began to ease up a bit, and, though it was still falling in sheets, Finch could clearly see the face of a pitiless killer in front of her. She realized with horror that the rain was letting up so that the cameras could get a good shot of this scene.

Cato laughed in a low grunting sneer as he stepped around a gnarled stump. He seemed to be amused at his quarry's failure to even attempt an escape. He was in no hurry; he knew he had the kill.

_Just one mistake, one wrong step. That's all it takes. _The words of her mentor flashed through her head again, chastising her.

That was when she saw it, and a plan began to formulate in her head.

Instead of fleeing, which she knew would be pointless, Finch held eye contact with Cato. However, she also kept an eye on his feet in her peripheral view.

She took two calculated steps backwards and one to her right. Cato stalked forward in response.

He continued his banter, pleased that the gamemakers had given him this opportunity, but Finch was not really paying attention to it. She was focused on the task at hand.

She took a small step to her left as she backed up. _Just give me two more steps_, she thought. _That's all I need._

In that moment, however, he attacked.

Cato lunged forward and swung his sword, but as he did, there was a distinctive snap and twang. The snare trap caught around his ankle and yanked upward.

Finch smiled her distinctive sly grin. _Gotcha._

It did not throw him completely off balance, but it had unsteadied him enough that his swing missed. Barely.

Shocked, Cato yelled with rage as Finch turned, planted her feet in the mud and bolted. She glanced back for a split second to see Cato hastily trying to yank his foot out of the snare trap, but it was refusing to let go.

Finch muttered a silent thanks to the girl from District 12. The trap was very well made, she had to give her that.

Finch knew that it was only temporary, though. Cato would soon enough slice through the snare with his sword and be well on her heels. She only had a few seconds head start, but that was all she needed. Sprinting through the undergrowth, she already had a plan.


	10. A Plan

Finch dashed through the forest, eventually emerging in the open plain where the games had begun. She immediately turned left and headed toward the field of high grass.

The tall grass was about the only place where her size would put her at an advantage.

Finch moved swiftly and silently through the thick, tall grass, making sure to stay low. She could heard Cato cursing in rage and frustration behind her. He was a lot closer than she had thought.

Finch was hoping that the torrents of rain and the loud pattering of the drops on the flooded plains would mask her movement. Still, she knew that it was only a matter of time before Cato found her, and then it would all be over.

She would have to move quickly.

As Finch rushed through the field of wheat, a flash of lightning illuminated the area and she saw a brief glint of orange to her right. If she hadn't been looking for it, she might have missed it. She stopped and looked to make sure.

Squinting to help her see through the blades of grass and the obscuring rainfall, lightning illuminated the field once more and Finch was sure that she saw it.

Cato was nearly on top of her now and she could hear the fury in his voice, bordering on insanity. He wasn't going to play around this time. Slicing wildly through the grass with his sword, Cato seemed to be blind with rage. If he spotted her now, it would all be over.

Changing directions, Finch ran to where she had seen the brief flash of orange. She had almost reached it when her foot snagged, and she tripped over an exposed root. She let out a cry in surprise and fell, hitting the flooded ground with a loud splash. She quickly brought her hands up over mouth to stifle the cry, but it was too late. As she rolled over, she could clearly see Cato staring straight at her, just yards away.

Still sprawled on the ground, she stumbled backwards through the flooded plain until she knocked into something. Examining it, she recognized the large bright orange bag with a number eleven embroidered neatly onto the front.

She knew that she must be close.

Finch looked back over at the upturned root that had caused her to fall. When she did, she saw that it was staring back at her_._

_There you are_, she thought.

The figure slowly rose up out of the grassy field until it was towering over her. Another flash of lightning streaked across the sky and Finch could make out the mountainous silhouette of Thresh.

It was a fight the capitol wanted, and it was a fight they were going to get.

_Just not one with me_, Finch thought, edging backwards into the tall grass until she melted into the background.


	11. Something Wicked This Way Comes

The response from Cato was immediate. Upon seeing Thresh, Cato went absolutely berserk. It was a level of insanity that Finch didn't know a human was capable of. The two clearly had unfinished business. From Cato's maniacal ranting, she discovered that Thresh had not only killed Clove, but had stolen his pack from the feast and had hidden it well.

Thresh looked away from Finch momentarily to face the formidable adversary, and when he looked back, Finch was gone. He didn't have much time to worry about it, though, for Cato was already running at him, screaming, with sword in hand. Thresh had no choice but to abandon Finch and take on the more direct threat. While Thresh was distracted, Finch reached out and grabbed the orange pack, then disappeared again into the long grass.

She stuffed her smaller green pack inside the larger orange one and threw it across her back. She didn't dare stop to check the contents until she was well out of range of the two dueling here.

She looked back for a second, but couldn't see much through the downpour. The two would be fairly evenly matched and would certainly give the capitol the show they wanted. It didn't matter to her, though. Finch didn't really care who won this fight, for she had already won her battle.

She looped back around, making sure to give Thresh and Cato ample room, and ran back the way she had come. As she sloshed through the damp forest, she thought that she might have heard a cannon shot, but it was hard to tell with the clashes of thunder echoing across the arena.

Thinking that she had probably run far enough, she slowed down, panting from exertion. The orange pack was much more of a burden than the smaller green one had been alone. Tired from running and dragging along the larger pack, she found a small alcove carved out of a rocky wall that was relatively sheltered from the rain. She set the orange pack down and checked the contents.

Much had been removed from the pack, but she found plenty that would be of use to her. Most notably, she found several packs of freeze-dried food and remembered how hungry she was. How long had it been since she had eaten last?

Additionally, she found a flashlight, a plastic container with the lid missing, several reflective metallic discs, a pair of binoculars, a set of hopelessly soaked matches and a sleeping bag stuffed into the bottom. She transferred the food, sleeping bag and flashlight to her green pack and discarded the rest along with the orange pack. It was more of a burden than she needed at the moment.

The thunderstorm showed no signs of letting up as Finch sat cold, wet and freezing at the base of the rock wall. Hopefully, the gamemakers would be satisfied with the battle that she had provided for them. She had had quite enough of their surprises for one day.

However, this idea was shattered when she heard a howling noise in the distance. It was faint at first, hardly audible over the storm, but the noise steadily grew louder and Finch could hear a crashing sound making its way through the forest. Something was coming.

_Muttation. _That was Finch's immediate thought.

The games almost always featured mutated animals to make the games more interesting, and they were overdue for an appearance. There was no way to know what no doubt defiled creature was coming at her, but she drew the knife anyway.

She wasn't a fighter. Finch knew that her best chance was to find a safe place to defend herself, and she had to do it soon. Though she had tried to keep the open field in sight when she had fled from the bloody battle between Cato and Thresh, she was otherwise in unknown territory. There was some moonlight shining down through the rain, but it was still quite dark. Having stumbled through the blackness of night, Finch could not tell exactly where she was. Anyway, her cave was gone and she did not know where any other natural shelters were. Where could she possibly go?

Glancing through the gaps in the trees, she caught sight of the moonlight gleaming off the edge of the golden cornucopia.

_Constants in a sea of variables._

It was as good an idea as any. She dashed off, crashing through the forest and out into the open plain as the noise steadily grew louder and louder. It sounded like something was ripping up the trees in its mad dash to get to her. Sprinting across the field, she could feel an unseen force suddenly whipping at her, almost lifting her off the ground. The monster was gaining ground, but she still had thirty yards to go.

When she had been inside the cornucopia a few days ago, it looked relatively sturdy, bolted into the ground. Would the gamemakers allow one of the symbols of the games to be destroyed? There was no way to know for sure, but one thing was certain: at the moment, it was probably the safest place in the entire arena.

Twenty yards left.

She had to duck as a large uprooted tree flew at her, just skimming the top of her head before smashing into the ground in front of her. Whatever this muttation was, it was powerful.

Ten yards.

She could barely keep her footing as an unrelenting force pushed and pulled at her. She was having trouble controlling the direction her body was moving and her feet were beginning to slide across the damp grass.

Five yards.

It was all she could do to stay on her feet, but she was determined to make it to the safety of the structure. She took the last few steps, then dove toward the opening of the cornucopia.


	12. A Rough Night Indeed

The great force struck her from behind, this time lifting her off the ground. It threw her into the cornucopia, slamming her into one of the inner walls. The impact caused her to lose her grip on the knife and it clattered to the floor. Finch tried to stand up, but the force struck again and knocked her sideways into the opposite wall. The wind howled around her as she hit the floor, completely helpless against the savage force. Still struggling to regain control of her body, there was nothing she could do as the force wrapped around her and she began to slide toward the opening. It was trying to pull her outside.

Desperately, she clawed around, feeling for something, anything, to keep her from getting dragged out into the night. _So much for defending myself_, she though.

Her hands ran down the sides of the cornucopia, but the wall was flawlessly smooth and slick. Not even the tiniest of handholds. Finally, her hands closed on the weapon rack bolted to the wall and she clamped down, holding on for her life.

The ear-splitting noise continued, and she could do nothing but close her eyes and hold on tightly as the force thrashed her body around. There were loud clanging noises that reverberated through the cornucopia as large objects beat on the outside. Her pack whipped around and threatened to rip off her back, but the straps somehow held. Pieces of splintered wood were flying into her face and into her clothes, but she could do nothing about it but hold on. She was thankful that at least there weren't any weapons still laying around.

Then, as quickly as it had come, it moved on.

Finch could hear the great roaring sound move across the field, then heard the sucking sound of water. She released her death grip on the weapon rack and opened up her eyes. It sounded like the monster had moved down to the lake.

Finch crawled to the edge of the cornucopia and looked around the side, hoping to get a brief glimpse of the thing. Through the wreckage and fallen trees strewn across the field, she could see it over the lake.

The waves clashed against each other, then rose into a spout of water in a great column. A giant funnel of water was rising up from the lake into the sky, lit eerily by the moonlight.

It reminded her vaguely of swirling clouds of dust that were common in her home district, slowly drifting through the desert. Back home, they were called "dust devils", but this was nothing like those. It was far more powerful and looked far more deadly.

The tornado thrashed the woods on the opposite side of the lake, then was gone.

The great roaring subsided, and the only sound she could hear was the pattering of rain on the roof of the cornucopia, eerily silent in comparison. Then, as if on cue, the sound of the anthem blared and the symbol of the capitol appeared across the sky. Finch glanced up only long enough to see that Cato must have won the fight.

Retreating back into the cornucopia, she huddled in the dark. She was damp, cold and sore from where she had been thrown against the walls, but still alive. There was a chance that Cato would find her here, but it didn't matter if she had frozen to death first. At least she had a roof over her head.

The matches she had taken were all wet and useless, but she figured it would be a bad idea to build a fire here even if she could. Sighing, she realized that she didn't have any kindling to burn anyway.

Finch pulled the sleeping bag out of her green pack, cleared a spot in the debris that littered the floor and stretched it out on the ground. It was far too big for her, but it was better sleeping conditions than she'd had in weeks. Crawling into the sleeping bag, she found that it wasn't much, but it took the edge off the harsh chill that had descended upon the arena. She pulled the bag over her head and curled up in the bottom, letting the darkness encompass her. Soon enough, she was overtaken by sleep.


	13. Sunrise

She did not sleep well that night. Her dreams were haunted by memories of the past and fears for her future. Was she going to survive? Was she going to die? She just wanted it to be over.

She dreamed of her parents. They had to work the power plants on reaping day. Forced to watch her walk on stage through monitors while they worked. They didn't even get to say goodbye. She had not seen them since before the reaping. Were they watching now?

Her thoughts returned to the apothecary. The day of the reaping. She walked through the back door, beckoned by rays of sunlight shining through. Agatha would know how to cheer her up. She had always understood her, had always been there for her. But today, she wasn't there. She had not been there for a long time.

Agatha. Her restless dreams took her back to a memory from long ago. The last day she had seen Agatha. The peacekeepers had come. They had taken her. Something about a rebellion. Finch was too young to understand. She did not know where they were going or why they were taking such a good person away. Then she was gone. They said she would never come back, but Finch knew better. Agatha would never abandon her.

Finch woke from her troubling dreams chilled to the bone. The world was very cold here, and her haunting dreams didn't help. Her ears, lips, and the tip of her nose were numb from the wintery air. Though her body was protected by the sleeping bag, she was still shivering, half frozen. She rubbed her nose and ears, letting friction warm them back up.

Finch could tell that her body was not going to let her get back to sleep for the cold, and she didn't really want to revisit those old memories again anyway. Instead, she popped her head out of the sleeping bag and peered outside.

The rain had stopped sometime in the night and the nearly full moon was shining down on the open field. She could see clearly all the way to the edge of the woods, past the pedestals where she had entered the games just two weeks ago. Had it only been two weeks? It felt like a lifetime ago that she had been just another ordinary kid, on track to work the solar plants for the rest of her life. How things had changed. She could remember thinking once that anything would be better than being sentenced to a lifetime of grueling work in the solar plants, but laying there in the moonlight, she would have given anything to have that life back.

The moon was setting and she could see a faint light on the horizon, signaling the return of the sun and its warmth. The potential end of the cold dark night gave Finch a slight boost of energy and she crawled out of the sleeping bag and stuffed it back into the green pack.

She ate the remainder of the food that she had scrounged, but it was not nearly enough to satisfy her hunger. She would have to find more and she knew exactly where to find it.

As the sun rose over the trees, she made her way back up the stream that she had followed just days before. The once bloody rocks were now washed clean by the days of rain. Following the natural features that she had memorized, she eventually reached the snares set up by the girl from District 12, then the cave itself.

Finch crawled under a thick bush on the edge of the forest over the cave. She could not see into the cave, but she could hear the two tributes talking. Some comment had caused the both of them to laugh. They must be in much better condition than they were when she had stopped by a few days ago. Did they even suspect that she had visited? Did they realize how close they had come to being eliminated from the games? She doubted it.

From here, Finch could clearly hear the girl's voice. It was clear that she was trying to contain her laughter. "Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave"

The boy replied, "What do I care? I've got you to protect me now."

Their conversation continued as Finch settled in behind the cave's opening and waited for the two tributes to come out of hiding. She was grateful that the temperature had risen again. Having spent her entire life in the arid deserts, she could handle scorching waves of heat, but the cruel cold was a different animal entirely.

As the two from District 12 emerged from the cave, they looked around, as if suspecting someone to jump out of the shadows and attack them, but no such thing happened. Finch noted that the girl was sporting the bow that she had seen in the cave earlier. Her head was wrapped in a bandage and her left ear seemed damaged. The boy was up and walking around again, but he appeared to still be weak and one leg was slightly crippled.

Then the boy spoke up, "He'll be hunting us by now. Cato isn't one to wait for his prey to wander by."

"If he's wounded-", the girl started, but the boy cut her off.

"It won't matter", he stated grimly, "If he can move, he's coming."

Throughout the part of the conversation that Finch had eavesdropped on, she hadn't heard them mention her at all, even in passing. Maybe they had forgotten all about her. Maybe they didn't see her as a threat. Either way, Finch knew that she had the advantage.


	14. One Simple Mistake

Trudging up the stream, which was much higher than it had been before, the girl said, "If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds."

Finch thanked them for revealing their strategy as the two District 12 tributes walked up around a bend in the stream, leaving as little trail as possible. This seemed easy for the girl, as if moving stealthily and silently was natural to her, but the boy was making all sorts of noise, partially due to a bad leg.

As the two disappeared upstream, Finch dropped lightly onto the rock in front of the cave and squeezed inside. The place smelled even better than it had before. She could smell broth, fruit, fresh bread and other wonderful scents. These two must have very generous sponsors.

Finch scoured the cave for any of the food, but they had left none of it behind. Despite the generous sponsors, they must have known enough not to take even a small amount of food for granted. Frustrated by her lack of results, she crawled back out of the cave and followed the two tributes up the river.

The boy with the injured leg was slowing the girl down and it wasn't long before Finch caught up to both of them. Though she made sure to keep quiet, the boy was easily making enough clamor to drown out any noise that she made.

Finch followed them for several hours through the pine woods, but they didn't reveal any more of their strategy. In fact, they weren't talking to each other much at all for supposed newfound lovers. Perhaps it was just the stress of the games. However they were far from silent- the boy was making enough sound for the three of them.

Eventually, the girl addressed this problem as politely as she could, though it came off sounding as if she was nagging the boy. "You've got to move more quietly", she said, probably sounding more annoyed than she meant to. "Forget about Cato, you're chasing off every rabbit in a ten-mile radius."

"Sorry, I didn't know", the boy replied, taking off his boots. When they proceeded, they were quieter, but he was still making enough noise that Finch knew that she could easily find the boy again if she lost sight of him.

The girl must have realized this too, because she stopped once again and suggested that the two split up. It was the opportunity that Finch had been waiting for. The girl taught the boy a two note call to use to tell the other that they were safe, then went their separate ways. The girl headed off into the pine grove and the boy headed toward the stream.

To Finch's delight, the two had left their food on the ground, just asking for her to take it. With so little food in the pile, it was possible that they would notice if she took a roll or an apple, but Finch was desperately hungry. The last thing she needed was for her rumbling stomach to give up her position. _One little mistake, _she brought back the words of her mentor. They seemed more relevant now than ever. However, from what she had seen, the two didn't seem to be overly bright. Even in the slight chance that they were paying attention, they certainly had no reason to think that she had taken it. They would probably just blame Cato again. She took a few bites of the cheese, then followed after the girl.

Finch quickly discovered why the girl on fire had scored an 11. The girl from District 12 moved quickly and silently, taking in every movement and sound in the area. When she spotted something, the girl was quick to draw and fire the bow at a target that Finch had not seen, though it had been right in front of her. The rabbit blended right in to the dried pine needles, but Finch had not even noticed it. What she did notice was that the girl's shot was deadly accurate, spearing the rabbit right through the eyes. A clean kill.

The girl's accuracy and focus astounded Finch. How had this girl not won already? Finch knew that if it was her who had that kind of skill with a ranged weapon and stealth, the games would have been over days ago. Instead of hiding in the cornucopia, she would have sat at the edge of the woods and picked off anyone who dared enter the clearing to grab their bag. Instead, this girl had gotten close enough to someone to get her head sliced.

Skilled, but not very smart, Finch noted. She could deal with that.

Finch doubled her effort to remain unseen and unheard, making sure step in time with the girl so that the sound of their footsteps blended together. If the girl could see a motionless rabbit blended into the foliage, she would have no problem spotting a mane of red hair against the brown tree trunks.

As the girl moved, she whistled the tune that she had taught the boy to communicate that they were safe. When the boy didn't return the two note call, the girl became worried. Finch didn't want the girl to be suspicious, so she hastily whistled the two note call in reply. The mockingjays picked up the tune and it reverberated through the trees. The sound seemed to calm the girl down and she went back to hunting.

The boy must be out of earshot. These two tributes were being careless. Slinking back into the shadows, she went to find the boy.

He was not hard to find. The boy was down by the stream gathering blue berries from a bush, storing them on a plastic sheet. With the stream moving so quickly over the rocks, it was obvious why the boy had not returned the call. The sound of the stream was masking just about every other sound. Limping along the shore, the boy was all but oblivious to the world around him.

Careless! How had they survived this long?

Finch continued watching the boy gather berries until a shrill yell made its way through the forest. Even over the stream, the scream was clearly audible. Finch figured the girl had gone long enough without a signal and must have gotten worried. The boy, hearing his name and the panic in the girl's voice, picked up his berries and ran toward the source of the yelling.

_So loud! _Finch though. _So much for stealth. The girl's practically asking for someone to attack her._

The berries that the boy had been picking were growing on bushes all along the stream. Finch picked a few of them and looked at them. She had seen the girl from District 11 gather these earlier in the games, so she trusted them. She plucked a few of them off the bush and followed the boy back. As she did, she popped a couple of the berries into her mouth, happy to have a snack to tide her over.

Finch immediately noticed something wrong. The berries had a different taste than she had remembered. These berries were sickly sweet with a slight touch of melancholy. She had never tasted anything like it these the same berries she had eaten just a few days earlier? They looked like the same ones- maybe they just weren't ripe yet.

Finch investigated the berries, rolling them over in her hand. _I need to be more careful. _Finch shook her head to clear her thoughts_. One simple mistake..._but her thoughts trailed off.

She found that she felt oddly at ease.

Looking around, Finch suddenly couldn't remember what she was doing in the middle of the forest or how she had gotten there. She had a vague sense that there was something that she was supposed to be doing, but she just couldn't remember what it was.

As she stood there thinking about it, Finch heard a voice behind her, speaking her name.

She recognized the voice instantly, but could hardly believe it, even as she she turned and saw her old friend standing before her smiling, arms outstretched.

"Agatha!" Finch cried. She did not care how Agatha had gotten there, only that she was. Suddenly, whatever she had been doing didn't matter to her anymore.

Dropping the berries, Finch ran into Agatha's warm embrace, tears streaming down her face. "I thought you were gone! They said you were never coming back!"

"I'm right here, child. I'm not going anywhere", Agatha said softly. "I'm so proud of you."

Somewhere in the distance, she heard the faint sound of a cannon firing.


	15. Epilogue & Notes

Thanks for reading my story and I hope you enjoyed it! I tried to keep true to the character that I saw in my head and through the actions she made in the book. I tied in to the book as much as possible, though I didn't really have much to work with. I could write this story thirty more times in thirty different ways, each as interesting as the others. More than anything, I wanted to address many of the questions and unresolved issues left over at the end of the first book. My one regret is that I wrote it rather quickly and probably could have done a better job juggling action scenes with character development. Oh well- You write and you learn.

A lot of people have asked me what was in Finch's green pack that she retrieved from the cornucopia; what it was that she needed so desperately. Well, the short answer is that I don't really know. It was a plot device that I never returned to. When I was first conceiving the story, I had a different ending in mind where Finch outfoxed even the gamemakers. If you go back and read the first chapter again, you'll see that she planned to "get out alive" rather than "win the games". That wording was intentional. In the original idea, she would use something in the pack (perhaps in conjunction with her token, which is never mentioned) to fake her death, while making it look to everyone else as if she had simply eaten the nightlock. I was going to have Finch escape the games alive by being removed from the arena by hovercrafts and shipped home in a wooden box. A prison-break of sorts. At the time, I thought it was the coolest idea ever, and I may return to this idea in a subsequent alternate-universe submission.

As I got farther into her story, however, I realized that this particular ending just doesn't go with the book and I really wanted this story to be believable in the actual Hunger Games universe. In the end, I had to come to terms with the fact that as much as I hated it, she simply doesn't survive. Sad panda. The result is the view that the survivors of fallen tributes must see. To know a tribute as a person, rather than a number, know their personality and all that they have been through and their potential- to see them just die senselessly in the arena for the capitol's amusement. It's not a view that the book really gives you, but is important nonetheless.

As for her death, I know that there's a big debate out there on whether or not it was suicide. Was she looking for an easy way out or was it a deadly mistake? Did she want to defy the capitol? It is clear from the movie that she knows her plants, but in the book, Katniss explicitly states that nightlock was not in the survival training. Katniss also notices that they very closely resembled Rue's berries, so I went with that. Yes, Finch knows her plants, but she is from a different geographical area, where the plants are much different. Until she tasted the berry, she didn't know that it was a different species from those that she had seen Rue harvest.

Personally, I kind of feel like I was a little too gratuitous with the action scenes and didn't spend enough time exploring her character and background, but, as I soon realized, it is difficult to develop a character that only has three days to live. Perhaps first person would have been a better choice? I don't know. I tried to keep the audience's attention while keeping the word count relatively low per chapter, but that may have been a mistake (no offense intended, but I was guessing that my audience would have a low attention span). That being said, is there anything you think I need to improve upon? This was my first attempt at writing anything like this, so what do you think I should do better for future stories? I know I'm nowhere near a perfect writer, so criticism is valued, even in the form of petty complaints.


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